


In This One They Are ... Heartbroken

by asongstress1422



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Universe, Death, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Living, Sad, Survival
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-11-23 18:14:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11407848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asongstress1422/pseuds/asongstress1422
Summary: A mixed bag of short, sad dabbles





	1. Clarke

There was gold on her finger tips

    that shone in the morning sun.

‘Privilege’ we spat, ‘Princess’ we mocked.

    Fear is so easy to control,

    When fed the right fuel.

But blue eyes make their own path,

    Not for control but for survival.

 

There was soot on her fingertips

    that caked her hands and banked the rivers on her cheeks.

‘Safe’ they claimed, ‘Friend’ they promised.

    Fear is easy to erode

    When met with a kind face and a clean bed.

But blue sparks still burn

    Because survival is not always safe.

 

There is blood on her finger tips

    that the moon is kind enough to hide.

‘Death Bringer’ they all whisper.

    Fear is so constant,

    That is is easily ignored.

Rain falls from dry eyes.

    Survival has to mean something or she is lost.


	2. Spring

The grass was jewel green and flowers washed the landscape in color. It was spring, the growing season, the season of life. The sun had been out for weeks and the air was warm and sweet and yet to Clarke it felt like the middle of winter. She could see the sun. Every step she felt the earth give as it thawed and still she felt cold, numb. Like falling through the ice but was still able to breath. 

She didn’t want to be able to breath. Or feel. Or think. 

She wanted to be in the ground right next to her little girl. She wanted to hold her in her arms for all of eternity and hear her laugh and be warmed by her smile.

“Clarke.”

She didn’t turn and look at the voice, she knew who it was. Instead, she asked the dust motes floating in the air, “do you think she felt it?”

“You know she didn’t. It ended quickly, she didn’t feel any pain.”

Tears prickled her eyes though she could have sworn she had already let them all fall. “I failed her, Bellamy. I promised I would keep her safe and I failed her.”

“You need to get up know.”

“I can’t.”

“You can and you will,” he ordered. “Now stand.”

She stood.

“Good,” his voice gentled, “now go, live your life. I have have Kayla. We’ll be here when you’re ready.”

She closed her eyes against the tears, “I’m ready now.”

“No.” She felt his hand in her hair, his breath whispering against her cheek. “They need you.” 

“Please don’t make me.” All she wanted to do was lean back against his strong chest, feel his arms come around her. 

She felt a gentle pressure on her shoulder, his words echoing in her head, “time to go be the princess, Princess.” 

Clarke walked forward, out of her cabin and into the sun she could not feel, not bothering to look back. He was never there when she did. 


	3. Choices

“Is it your mission to make my life harder than it already is. We have people dying, Bellamy.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” he growled up at her, looking like it was taking all his willpower to remain seated.

“They why aren’t you doing anything about it!” she snapped back

He leaned back in his chair, arms outstretched, hands clawed on the table as if he was trying to distance himself from her. “Because you are asking me to put my trust in people who left us to rot before.”

Clarke carded her hands through her hair, grabbing great handfuls as she paced in front of his desk. “So you’re going to let a little thing like your feelings get in the way of their survival?”

“No, that’s your move, Princess,” he spat. “I’m trying to make sure we aren’t in a position to get fucked over like the last time you wanted Grounder ‘help’.”

She dropped her hands turning to give him a sharp look. “I did what I thought was right, both times. Yes it was selfish to walk away but I did what was best. If I would have stayed, I would have broken and dragged everything down with me.”

He snorted, shaking his head, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “Don’t pretend like you cared.”

“Don’t you dare say I didn’t care. I destroyed myself with caring.”

They stood in silences, their shared history stretching out between them, floating like so many disjointed images. For so long they had ruled together, keeping a hundred children alive in a hostile environment while not being much more than children themselves.

And failing.

With each death they became just that much more determined to keep the next one from happening. And failing again. And again. And again. And again. They failed thirty-seven times before the first satellite landed. Then they failed another twenty-three times in that mountain.

Still it was all about saving that one next life. Of keeping just one more person from dying. Here is where they started to find differences. Clarke wanted no more deaths. Bellamy wanted no more of _his_ people's death, and would kill to keep that course.

“I’ll be leaving Arkadia," she said finally. "I doubt I will ever come back. I'll welcome any who decide to join me.”

“For their protection I can not allow that. You will tell no one of this alleged treaty with the Grounders. If you disobey, force will be used to stop you.”

 “So are we reverting back to Ark rule? Silencing the messenger before the information can be given?” Threats and distrust and hate, Stars she was tired of it all.

“For however much you believe them, I will not let my people be fed lies.”

“You would rather they not be fed at all?”

He gave her a hard look. “You are free to leave. Stars know I can not stop you but do not test me by talking to anyone.”

Sadness burned in her eyes as Clarke sees what they both had become. A sadness at the death of the Devil-May-Care King and the brave, naive, little princess.

“Do what you feel you must, for I will as well.” She turned and walked out the door, “goodbye, Bellamy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, leave me a comment


	4. He Always Answers When I Call His Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is sorta set in the season three finally where Clarke takes the chip and does to the City of light...kinda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just finished reading a really great, very sad fanfiction by LaughingSenselessly called 'How You Stay Alive'.  
> I strongly recommend it.

Clarke sat, curled in on herself forehead firmly pressed against her knees, somewhere dark and completely quiet. She couldn't even hear her own heart beat.

Then a gruff voice whispered from above her. “Found you.”

Clarke’s heart seized, painfully ripping the air from her lungs,  _Bellamy_. 

“Yes, I’m right here," he answered but she didn't look up. She couldn't bear to look up. "But you need to go back now.”

“No,” she sobbed into her upturned knees.

“You are our people’s hero, Clarke. They need you.”

“Stop saying that! I am nobody's hero!” she exploded.

“Look at me and tell me that," he snapped. "Look deep into my eyes and tell me what you’ve done, what you continue to do, is not heroic.”  

“I’m not a hero, Bellamy; I am death and destruction. No matter how hard I try not to be that is. All. I Am.” She growled to the inky blackness beneath her hands fisted where they clung to her pants.

“No,” icy hands turned her face up to his. “You have endured. And suffered. And lost the things you care most about.” She reached out and touched his cheek. Her lip quivering as she traced the bruising along his jaw. He was exactly as she saw him last. His thumb caught and whipped away a tear. “And yet here you still are; still fighting. Still clawing for every morsel given to you, every centimeter of earth to live and every sack of grain to feed. Not for some selfish pride but for the people that depend on you. That does make you a hero.”

She closed her eyes, letting her head fall against his chest, soaking in the feel of his skin, ignoring the fact that she didn't hear anything beneath her ear. “I can’t anymore. It’s too hard.”

“I know. But you will,” there was so much pride in her voice that it tore at her heart, “the Clarke I know doesn’t give up.”

“The Clarke you know is dead.” She pulled away from his touch, she didn’t deserve it after what she’d done. “She died the second she killed you.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” he said gently, brushing the hair out of her face. 

“I stood by while they hanged you and said nothing. How is that not my fault?”

“Clarke, you did the right thing.”

“No,” she cried, “the right thing would have been to save you.”

“Not at the cost of your people,” he said.

Clarke felt panic rise in her chest, “our people. They’re our people, Bellamy.”

“Not anymore.” He cradled her head again, looking deep into her eyes, “you need to go back now.”

“No. Please don’t,” she sobbed, clawing onto his arms. “Don’t make me go. I can’t. Please-”

“Be brave, princess,” he whispered then kissed her with all the love and passion they had never physically shared. Her eyes fell. Her heart thumped as she breathed him in.

“I have a pulse!” a far off voice yelled.

It was too loud, she tried to shy away from it. She wanted to stay where it was quiet, where she could still be kissing Bellamy. But the pressure of his lips was growing fainter and fianter.

Her next breath tasted of blood and she almost wretch.

“That's it, baby. Breath.”

She didn’t want to. Fire burned through her veins; if she breathed it would only make it worse. Her body had other ideas. Her lungs shuttered as they drew in the cloying air.

“Clarke, honey, look at me. Come on, please. Open your eyes.”

The world was blinding.

“Thank god, Clarke. Oh, thank god.” Warm hands gently turned her head. Wrong hands. And the wrong face staring down at her. “We thought we lost you.” Abby said with a fragile smile, tears leaking down her nose.

“No,” she tried to say but what only came out as a whine. Her throat felt raw, as if she had been screaming.

She didn't want to be there. It hurt too much. She wanted to go back. To Bellamy. Why wouldn’t they let her go back?

“Abby,” Marcus stepped into her vision next to her mother. “We need to go.”

“We can’t. She’s not stable enough.”

Marcus glanced down at her, concern in his eyes before he looked back at Abby. “Do what you can.”

Dr. Griffin turned back to Clarke. “Can you sit up?” She didn’t wait for an answer. Shoving arms behind her back and forcing her up.

Clarke wavered, her body rebelling the quick direction change. Abby held her over the edge of the table as she threw up the black contents of her stomach.

That was when she saw him.

He’s laying across the room his face turned away from her but she would know that mop of curly hair anywhere. She reached out for him, slipping from the table. Her mother caught her controlling her fall to the ground. Clarke tried to crawl towards him.

Abby stops her, arms closing around her. Her voice is heartbroken for her daughter when she says, “I did everything I could.”

She still struggles, keeping her eyes on her goal, “we have to save him.”

“I’m sorry, Clarke. He’s gone.”

“No! I saw him. I saw him on the other side. He’s still there. We can bring him back. We can save him!”

“Clarke-”

Whatever she’s about to say is interrupted by Marcus. “Abby, we have to leave.”

“I can’t leave him,” Clarke cries. “Please don’t make me leave him. Bellamy!”

Abby looks up at Marcus, fighting to keep her hold as Clarke strains to reach the boy.

With a nod he bends and tips the girl into his arms, turning for the door even as she claws and begs.

“Put me down! Please, Bellamy, I can’t leave him. Not again. I promised I wouldn't. Please.”

His heart bleeds for these kids, the son and daughter he never had. But he doesn’t stop. She thrashes once more, violently, when they walk through the door and the body is no longer visible. Then collapses against his shoulder.

“Bellamy,” she calls is the softest of whispers.

If Marcus hadn't been carrying her, he wouldn’t have heard. He glances down at her. Her eyes are wide and locked on the brightness of the doorway behind them. Tears cling to her lashes and snot mingles with the black blood from her nose, and she stares.

Willing something they all know will not happen.


End file.
